


it's always been you

by rachelweasley



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Cuddles, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Recovery, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7303015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelweasley/pseuds/rachelweasley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve wasn’t quite sure what to do with his sudden epiphany. He didn’t remember a time when he didn’t love Bucky. But he didn’t quite realise that Bucky was the centre of his universe until now.</p><p>It made sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's always been you

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, this was just a shameless excuse to write some fluff, really! I wrote it all in one go, and I'm not completely happy with it, but since I finished it... I thought I might as well post it! Hope you enjoy!

Steve had known Bucky his whole life.

They had met in the playground — the place where Bucky would save him from bullies for the first time.

He still remembered being cornered by the two boys, and being shoved against a fence when he was making his way home. He remembered how the boys poked fun at him for being so small — so very typical — and for spending most of his time reading his comics while all the other kids played with each other.

Steve, albeit too young, was quite a mature six year old and he had long since accepted that the bullies would never leave him alone. But Steve was also incredibly stubborn and refused to go down without a fight. So when the first punch hit his stomach and he doubled over, he was quick to straighten up and throw a kick of his own which landed in the middle of the boy’s legs. His first instinct had been to panic because he had never been that bold before, instead resorting to punching shoulders or shoving bullies and then running as fast as his little legs could go.

His blue eyes widened when the second boy stepped forward, narrowing his eyes, and when he raised his fist Steve closed his eyes because there was no way that he could run away now, not when he had positively enraged them. He knew that they’d find him and would do even worse damage if he decided to be brave.

But the punch never came.

Instead, he dared to open his eyes, and frowned when he noticed a third boy holding the bully’s hand. He stood there, gaping, as the newcomer told the others to leave Steve alone unless they wanted their parents to find out about what they’d been doing. The bullies expressed their doubts but nonetheless recoiled, walking away, but not before giving Steve a last threatening look.

“Are you okay?”

Steve was suddenly aware of the boy looking at him. He nodded, trying to ignore the pain in his stomach where he knew that bruises were already forming.

“You don’t seem so good,” the boy said. He pointed at Steve’s knees, noticing the red marks. “They do that to you?”

“No,” Steve said, shifting on his feet. “I fell earlier.”

“Oh.” The boy considered him for a second. “What’s your name?”

“Steven Rogers,” he answered, proudly.

“Nice to meet you, Steven Rogers.” He offered his hand, and Steve shook it. “I’m James Barnes. But my family and friends call me Bucky.”

“Why did you help me?” Steve asked, curiously. No one had ever helped him before.

James shrugged. “That ain’t right, what they were doing. They’re cowards.”

Steve smiled. “Thank you, James.”

James grabbed his hand, leading him out of the playground. “We better get you home so your knees don’t get infected. My ma always helps me with that.” He looked back at Steve. “And call me Bucky.”

He did.

From then on, the two had been inseparable. They went to the same school, they played together, and whenever they could they’d go to each other’s houses, sometimes having sleepovers. Steve was grateful for Bucky. He was the first friend Steve had ever made, and the only person – apart from his mother – who didn’t look at him like he was useless.

Bucky was Steve’s best friend, and Steve was Bucky’s.

He had been there when Steve was ill and could barely breathe. Bucky would stay at his side, reading him stories and telling him about his day. He’d hold Steve’s hand and promise him that he’d get better, but Steve would always notice the fear and uncertainty in his eyes. Sometimes, he’d get into Steve’s bed and hold him and during those moments Steve would feel safe.

Bucky had been there whenever Steve got into trouble. Whether it was because Steve had accidentally knocked his neighbour’s flower pots over and Bucky had to make up an excuse to save Steve from Mrs Carpenter’s fury or because Steve had gotten into yet another fight and Bucky had to get in between before Steve got himself knocked out.

Bucky had been there when Steve’s mother was ill, and he’d been there when she was buried. Steve had never once shown his weakness, or dared to cry, but his eyes betrayed his strong demeanour and Bucky would always hold him until he stopped feeling numb. He never said anything because nothing he could say would make it better. But his actions let Steve know that he’d always be there and that he was sorry that Steve had to go through all that pain.

Steve didn’t like when people pitied him. But Bucky didn’t pity him. Bucky was Steve’s anchor, and the only reason Steve hadn’t completely crumbled when his mother was no longer with him.

Bucky had been there when Steve could no longer afford to live on his own. Managing to scrape enough money for rent, food, and his medication was hard, especially when Steve was sick every other week and couldn’t make it to work. Bucky had had enough one day, and told Steve that he was moving in with Bucky – no excuses. Steve had tried to argue that he could make it on his own, but his best friend was having none of it.

The apartment was small. Both had insisted that they wouldn’t mind sleeping on the couch, and both refused to let each other do just that. So that’s how they ended up sharing the bed. It was small, just barely enough for both of them to fit, and when Steve fell asleep in Bucky’s arms, he felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders.

And then Bucky was headed towards the war, leaving Steve in Brooklyn, cold and scared for his best friend. That only made him more determined to follow his steps, so when the opportunity to subject himself to the serum presented itself he didn’t think twice before accepting it.

Finding Bucky strapped to the table made his heart ache. He had looked so hopeless and terrified but when he looked at Steve, a flicker of hope shone in his eyes.

It took Bucky a while to get adjusted to the new Steve. They both knew that Steve hadn’t changed — except his physical appearance — and Steve could understand why Bucky had felt slightly uneasy at first. Steve himself found it hard to adjust to his new body. But one day, Bucky had sat next to him, draping an arm around Steve’s shoulders and knocking their knees together.

 _Your body finally resembles your personality, Stevie_.

And everything seemed right again.

Until it wasn’t.

Steve watched helplessly as Bucky fell. His first instinct had been to go down with him, to try and save him, but he knew that Bucky would never forgive him for doing something to stupid. Steve would give his life for Bucky in a heartbeat, but he stayed and vowed to destroy every last member of Hydra for taking away the one good thing he had in his life

 

* * *

 

When Steve woke up almost seventy years later, he was confused.

He was confused because he didn’t wake up in his bed. Confused because Bucky wasn’t next to him. Confused because he didn’t recognise where he was. Confused because his memory was failing him and everything felt hazy, like he was in a dream and couldn’t understand what was happening or even who he was.

It took him months to adjust to his new life, but he never quite got there. He learned to live with it, tried to accept his fate and the events that had led up to him waking up in the twenty first century. But Steve didn’t belong there. Everything he had once known had changed, and everyone he had loved and cared about had died. He didn’t have his mother, he didn’t have the Commandos, and worst of all he didn’t have _Bucky_.

It was like a part of him was missing, and the hollowness in his heart could never be replaced.

He went on with his life — or tried to, at least. He went on missions with the Avengers, and did as best as he could to try and save the world. He hung out with the Avengers but never quite put himself out there, instead showing a small fraction of who he really was. The only person he ever felt comfortable with was Sam, sometimes even Natasha.

Sam didn’t try force Steve to be a person he was not. He didn’t drag Steve to Tony’s parties, or tell Steve that hanging out with the Avengers would do him good. Sam wasn’t overly cautious with Steve, afraid that he’d break him or that he’d trigger any strong emotions. Sam treated Steve like a normal person and that’s exactly what Steve needed. Sam was a good friend and, when Steve felt comfortable enough, he was happy to confide in him how he felt and even share stories of his past. Steve’s therapist had said that holding on to the past wouldn’t allow him to move on, but Sam didn’t think like that. Instead, he smiled and asked Steve questions which made him feel at ease.

When Steve had encountered Bucky on the bridge, Sam was there for him. He told Steve not to hold on to the small flicker of hope he had, but he also didn’t flat out tell Steve to forget about Bucky. He helped Steve look after Bucky, and when Steve had given up after long, exhausting months, Sam was sympathetic and let Steve know that he’d be there if Steve needed him.

Seeing Bucky again had been a complete shock. Steve had long since accepted the idea that he’d never see his best friend again. He had been told countless times that no one could ever survive that fall. But Bucky _had survived_.

Except Steve had seen the hollowness and anger in his eyes. He had nightmares about the way Bucky had been so ready to kill him, without a second thought. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Bucky had frowned when Steve said his name, and the way he didn’t remember Steve at all.

Steve hated himself because it was _his fault_.

He should never have crashed that plane. He should have survived and gone looking after Bucky and he should have saved him from the claws of Hydra. Steve had allowed his best friend to be tortured, manipulated, and his memory to be wiped over and over again. It was no wonder Bucky didn’t want to be found. Why would he ever want to look at Steve again after he had failed him?

Steve didn’t try to find Bucky again. Although, that didn’t stop him from keeping in check and constantly asking Fury if there were any updates. The answer was always a solid no, but he hoped that, at least, it meant that Bucky was safe somewhere. Steve wouldn’t be able to handle Bucky being captured again after everything that he’d already gone through.

Days turned into weeks which turned into months. Steve was walking home from the tower, where he had spent a good part of his day in the gym with the punching bag. He adjusted his leather jacket, shoving his hands in his pockets and trying to block out the cold. When he reached the steps leading to the apartment he stopped, dead in his tracks.

Bucky was sitting outside the door, holding his knees, and wearing a cap even though the sky couldn’t look any greyer. He looked up to where Steve was standing, and Steve’s heart broke when he looked at him.

He looked exhausted, his eyes were red, whether from crying or lack of sleep he couldn’t tell. He hadn’t shaved in days, and Steve was having a hard time reading his body language. He didn’t know whether to approach Bucky or not, so he just awkwardly stood in front of him, waiting for Bucky to say something, even though all Steve wanted to do was take him in his arms and hold him until everything was right again.

“Hey Steve.” His voice wavered from, possibly, months of not using it.

“Hey, Bucky.” Steve wondered what kind of reaction he’d get for using the name, but Bucky didn’t seem to mind. “Do you want to come in?” He was trying not to be too hopeful, but then Bucky nodded and he let out a breath that he hadn’t noticed he was holding.

Steve led the way and quickly made his way to the kitchen, making a fresh pot of coffee so they could both feel warmer. He watched as Bucky hesitantly sat at the table, keeping his eyes down. He filled two mugs with coffee and sat next to him, keeping some space between them in case Bucky wasn’t too comfortable with Steve being so close.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered.

Steve frowned. “What for?”

“The bridge,” he started, taking a sip of the steaming hot coffee. “And everything after that.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“I could have killed you.”

“But you didn’t.” Steve pursed his lips. “It wasn’t you. It was them. You saved me.”

“After I put you in danger.”

“But you remembered,” Steve said softly. “You broke the conditioning and you remembered.”

“I don’t know how.” Bucky tightened his grip on the mug. “It never happened before. And after that, the memories just kept coming back. I spent all these months remembering. I would go weeks without anything new but then, suddenly, something else came up.” He shrugged. “Didn’t think I’d ever recover my memories.”

“How much do you remember?”

“Not everything. There are a lot of gaps, but I think I remember some of the most important things. At least I hope I do.”

They were silent for a moment. Steve didn’t know what to say, afraid that he’d scare Bucky away and then he’d never see him again. It was a delicate situation and he knew that anything could set him off.

“Are you leaving again?”

Bucky looked at Steve, seeming to ponder his question. “Only if you want me to.”

Steve looked at the table, now noticing that their hands were so close that their fingers were almost touching. “I want you to stay.”

Bucky’s fingers twitched until he reached over and linked their fingers together. Steve looked at their hands and felt his chest tighten.

“Then I’ll stay.”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t easy. And Steve hadn’t expected it to be.

It took Bucky some time to get used to being around Steve again. But Steve was patient. He knew that Bucky had gone through hell and back, and even though he was with Steve, it didn’t mean that he’d magically heal. They both knew that he’d never fully recover; that he’d live with the trauma and guilt until the end of his days. But Steve would do anything in his willpower to make it easier for him, to simply _be_ there for Bucky.

Bucky had his good and bad days. Sometimes he was happy to hang out with Steve, no matter how reserved he had been in the beginning. But other times he’d prefer to be on his own, and Steve respected that. It reminded him of himself when he had woken up in 2012, and he knew better than to interfere with what Bucky was going through. Steve had only hoped that he’d eventually come around.

And he did.

It may have taken some months, but eventually the bad days decreased and the good days increased. They settled into a comfortable rhythm with each other. Some of the other Avengers were aware that Bucky was back in Steve’s life and they were wary of it but didn’t meddle. Sam was surprisingly supportive, though he had warned Steve that he wouldn’t hold back if Bucky ever felt like a threat.

Bucky seemed more at ease every day. He’d joke around with Steve, and sometimes they’d relish on memories they had from the life they’d had before. Sometimes, on his bad days, he’d go to Steve, simply to just be in his presence. He’d once rested his head on Steve’s lap and closed his eyes as Steve ran his fingers through his hair. And that made it somewhat easier for him to deal with what was going on in his mind. It had since become a habit of his to just seek physical comfort from Steve.

On one particularly bad night, Bucky had a nightmare. Steve stirred when the felt the bed dip when a new weight was added to it. He opened his eyes and noticed Bucky staring at his hands, a frown on his face.

“Buck?” He reached over and turned the lamp on.

Bucky looked at him, surprised that Steve was awake. “Nightmare,” he whispered. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s okay,” Steve said, placing a hand on Bucky’s arm. “You wanna talk?”

Buck shook his head.

“Okay.” Steve shuffled in his bed, lifting the covers. “Get in here.”

Bucky seemed to consider for a moment but then he was lying next to Steve, sharing the same pillow as the blond. Steve could feel that Bucky was still shaking, so he wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer, his hand rubbing Bucky’s back. Bucky tensed for a second but then seemed to relax, closing his eyes.

Steve leaned closer and kissed Bucky’s cheek, barely touching him, but Bucky felt it nonetheless because he opened his eyes and smiled at Steve. He looked tired but, even like that, he remained the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen. His steel blue eyes made Steve’s breath catch in his throat and he couldn’t help but trace his thumb along Bucky’s cheekbone, feeling the soft skin.

Steve maneuvered, so that he was lying on his back and Bucky was quick to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder, his hand resting on Steve’s chest. Steve tightened his arms around Bucky, and dropped a kiss to his forehead, hoping that Bucky would get some rest.

And then it hit him like a brick.

The realisation dawned on him when he least expected it, and left him completely dumbfounded.

Steve was in love with Bucky.

Maybe he always had been.

 

* * *

 

Steve was not quite sure what to do with his sudden epiphany. He didn’t remember a time when he didn't love Bucky. He had since they were kids. But he never thought it was more than unconditional best friend love. Bucky was a constant in Steve’s life, something that kept him grounded, and Steve never took it for granted. But he didn’t quite realise that Bucky was the centre of his universe until now.

It made sense.

It explained why Steve always felt the need to have Bucky by his side. Why Steve felt uneasy whenever Bucky went out with girls, and why he was never really happy whenever Bucky told him about his dates. It explained why he felt so safe when Bucky held him in his arms, and why no feeling could compare to lying in bed with Bucky wrapped around him. It explained why his heart swelled whenever Bucky looked at him with his steel blue eyes, and his lips twisted into that beautiful smile of his. It explained the hollowness he felt when he lost Bucky, and the fear that came with Bucky’s return; the fear that he’d lose him again. But he hadn’t. Bucky was still around, but Steve didn’t know how long he could go without Bucky noticing how Steve was feeling.

Bucky had always had some sort of Steve radar. He was able to tell when Steve was happy, sad, or whatever other emotion he felt. Steve could try and hide it from anybody, and for the most past he was successful, but when it came to Bucky it was quite simply impossible. The man could read him like a book.

He managed to hide it for a few days, and if Bucky had noticed anything different he didn’t say anything.

Until his mind betrayed him for the first time.

“Stevie,” Bucky called out. “Could you come here for a second?”

Steve slipped a bookmark between the pages and closed the book he was reading. He headed to the bathroom and saw Bucky running his fingers through his hair. He leaned against the doorframe, trying his hardest to be subtle about the way his eyes were gazing over Bucky’s body. He had always found him attractive but he never thought much of it. Now it made even more sense.

“Could you give me a hand?” Bucky glanced at him in the mirror. “I want to cut my hair.”

Steve stepped forward, opening one of the cabinet drawers and taking out a pair of scissors. “You sure? The long hair suits you.”

Bucky grinned at him. “Maybe cut it just a little. Medium length, what do you say?”

“Sounds good.” He gestured towards the bathtub. “Sit.”

Bucky sat on the edge, and Steve stepped between his legs, swallowing when Bucky looked up and gave him an encouraging smile. He ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair and then started to cut it, making sure that it was even. He smiled when he looked down at Bucky, who had closed his eyes, no doubt enjoying the feeling of Steve’s fingers on his hair. A few minutes later, Steve stepped back, inspecting his work and, frankly, feeling rather proud of himself.

Bucky looked at him, biting his lip. “How do I look?”

“Gorgeous,” Steve said before he could stop himself. When Bucky cocked an eyebrow at him, with his smirk in place, Steve felt his neck warming up. He cleared his throat, turning away and cleaning the scissors, brushing away the small hairs that were still caught between the blades. “Right. Have fun cleaning up the floor.” He left the bathroom before Bucky could reply.

He groaned to himself once he was sure that Bucky couldn’t hear him. It shouldn’t be a big deal, really. Compliments between the two of them weren’t rare, per say, but he knew that the way he was looking at Bucky could easily betray him.

One thing Steve was sure of was that, even if Bucky figured him out, he wouldn’t up and leave. Maybe things would be a little awkward, Bucky would be kind when he rejected Steve, and then things would eventually get back to normal. He just didn’t want Bucky to freak out.

The two of them had never had a problem with men liking other men, or women liking other women. Steve himself knew that he liked both men _and_ women when he was sixteen, and he made peace with it. But he knew that back in the 30s and 40s it was a death sentence. Now things were different and it made Steve happy that anyone could be in love with whoever they wanted and they didn’t have to hide it, even if there were still people who were very against it. Bucky knew, too, and he had been just as delighted with the way society had changed over the decades.

But that didn’t really mean much in the context of Bucky and Steve. Just because the thought of two men together didn’t bother Bucky, there was still a possibility that he’d be weirded out at the thought of his best friend being in love with him.

Steve shook the thought off and reminded himself to be more careful next time.

Of course, he would fail at that.

 

* * *

 

Bucky was sprawled on the couch and Steve was sitting on the armchair, sketching Bucky because he clearly had no self-control. He liked nights like these, when they decided to be lazy and just hung out with each without saying much, enjoying the comfortable silence and each other’s presence.

He heard Bucky shuffle on the couch and glanced over, smiling when their eyes met. “What are you thinking about?”

“Do you ever miss going out like we used to? Before the war.”

Steve put his pencil down, frowning. “In some ways.” He shrugged. “I had fun hanging out with you, but apart from that there’s not much I miss.”

“Not even the dames?”

Steve laughed. “What dames? You got them all to yourself. No one would ever glance at scrawny, little Steve.”

“They didn’t know what they were missing on,” Bucky said. “It was their loss.”

Steve saw the honesty in Bucky’s eyes and didn’t doubt, for a second, that he was telling him his honest opinion. He truly appreciated that, but still firmly believed that he’d always been too awkward to date anyone. Bucky had tried setting him on a few dates back in the day, and they’d all gone horribly wrong, so after some time and after Steve practically begged him, he gave up. Steve preferred it that way.

“Thanks, Buck.”

Bucky nodded. “What about now? Never seen you go out with anyone these past few months.”

“Not my thing.” He picked up his pencil and went back to his sketch, paying special attention to Bucky’s jawline. “Don’t need anyone else, anyway.”

“Anyone else?” Bucky’s voice was soft and curious.

Steve bit his lip so hard that he was sure it would start bleeding soon. “You know,” he gestured vaguely, “already got to handle you. Can’t have someone else in the way, can I?”

Bucky frowned, straightening himself up on the couch. “Am I stopping you from seeing other people?” Steve looked up, catching the worry and guilt in Bucky’s face. “I’m sorry, Steve. I don’t want you to hold up on anything just because of me.”

“You’re not–”

“I can leave if you want. Get another apartment. I managed well on my own for some time.”

“No!” Steve got up, placing his sketchbook on the coffee table, and sat next to Bucky, holding his hand. “I don’t want you to go anywhere, and you’re not holding me up. I don’t want to date anyone, Buck. I’m happy being with you.” He squeezed Bucky’s hand.

“You’re really happy, then?”

“How could I not be when I get to have my best guy all to myself?” He tried to make it sound like a joke but something in Bucky’s gaze told him that he had betrayed himself. Whatever Bucky was thinking he didn’t say out loud but he smiled, and Steve couldn’t help but look at his lips. When he glanced back up, Bucky was looking at him, and Steve really wished he could know what he was thinking.

Bucky leaned forward, and Steve forgot how to breathe for a moment. But then Bucky kissed his cheek, dangerously close to his mouth, and Steve had to force himself to not go after Bucky’s lips. Bucky smiled at him and got up from the couch, leaving a very confused Steve to overthink everything.

 

* * *

 

A few nights later, Steve looked behind him as his bedroom’s door opened and Bucky slipped inside, quiet as ever. It had become a habit of his to sleep with Steve whenever he had nightmares or bad days, but that soon started happening even in good days. Steve wasn’t about to complain about it, though.

He smiled as Bucky approached, and he pulled the covers so Bucky could get inside.

“If you’re going to keep doing this, you might as well start sleeping here for good,” Steve said. “What’s the point of going to your bed if you’re just going to come over one hour later?”

Bucky huffed as he pressed him against Steve’s back, winding an arm around his waist, and slipping his leg between Steve’s. “Okay, first of all, it’s been one hour and twenty six minutes. Second of all, I don’t come here _every_ night.”

“The last time you didn’t sleep with me was seven days ago.”

“Are you keeping count now?” Bucky squeezed Steve’s hip. “That’s a very accurate number.”

Steve shrugged. “I need to keep track of these things so that I can use them against you.”

“Right.”

Steve felt Bucky nuzzle the back of his neck before planting a soft kiss there. His eyes fluttered at the gentle touch, more intimate than any other shared between them in the nine months they’d been living together. He felt himself relax, not daring to think too much as Bucky kept pressing kisses on his skin. Bucky’s arm tightened around him and he heard Bucky sigh before pressing a kiss to Steve’s shoulder.

“Stevie.”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Turn around, I wanna see you.”

Steve turned in Bucky’s arm, their faces mere centimetres from each other. He rested his hand on Bucky’s side, thumb stroking over the fabric of his shirt.

“Remember when you cut my hair and said I looked gorgeous?”

Steve huffed and rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to start making fu–”

“You’re beautiful.”

“– of me– I– What?” He couldn’t possibly have heard that right.

“I said you’re beautiful.”

“Oh.”

Bucky smiled and nodded. “Just putting it out there.”

Steve tried to let that sink in but he couldn’t quite pinpoint why Bucky had said that. Maybe he felt that Steve could do with a confidence booster? He wouldn’t be entirely wrong. But his voice had sounded so sweet, and he was touching Steve in such an intimate manner, and Bucky was so beautiful, and Steve felt dozens of emotions at the same time.

“You’re overthinking.”

Bucky pulled him out of his thoughts and Steve sighed because it was true. “Got a lot in my mind lately.”

“I can tell.” _Like an open book_. “Stevie,” he linked their fingers together and brought them to his lips. “I love you.”

Steve smiled. “Love you, too, pal.”

And then Bucky chuckled, leaving Steve very confused. Bucky shook his head, looking fondly at Steve. “I don’t think you quite understood that. I _love_ you, Steve.”

“Yeah, I–” Wait, what? “What?”

“You’re making a man slightly self-conscious here, Steve.” He frowned. “I thought you– shit, I got it all wrong, didn’t I?”

Bucky loved him?

“You love me?”

“I do.”

Steve must have been dreaming. And if it was a dream then he didn’t want to wake up.

“Buck,” he whispered. He noticed how Bucky was looking away, worried that he’d said the wrong thing. Steve held Bucky’s face, turning it so they could look at each other. “I love you. I really fucking love you.”

Bucky’s smile was the happiest one Steve had seen since he’d come back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky laughed and rolled on top of Steve, leaning down and kissing him hard. They were both way out of practise but it didn’t take them long to fall into a rhythm. When Bucky traced Steve’s bottom lip with his tongue, Steve opened up, both learning the curves of each other’s mouths. Steve held Bucky tightly in his arms, afraid that once they broke the kiss he’d run away. But that didn’t happen. Instead, they rested their foreheads together, smiling happily. Bucky kissed Steve one more time and propped himself on his elbow so he could look down at Steve.

Steve ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair, letting his hand rest on the back of Bucky’s neck. “How long have you known?”

“Since forever, it feels like.” He traced Steve’s jawline. “I remember loving you since we were young. I just never put two and two together. I’m glad I did now.” He smiled. "You haven't been very subtle these past few weeks. I knew something was going on and a few nights ago I finally figured it out. Were you ever going to tell me?"

Steve blushed. "I don't know. I was scared of losing you."

"That's never going to happen."

Steve sighed. "Feels like we’ve both been blind for a while.” He pressed his lips to Bucky’s. “Do you think it would have worked out back then?”

“We would have had to keep it a secret. And it would hurt, you know? Not being able to show how much you meant to me. But as long as we both knew and could be together at home, then yeah. I’d like to think so.” He laid in bed next to Steve, resting his hand on Steve’s chest.

“We don’t have to hide it now.” Steve smiled at Bucky. He couldn’t quite believe his luck. It was like something out of destiny, and Steve had _never_ been one to believe in destiny and soulmates. But when he looked at Bucky, a small part of him believe that it couldn’t all be impossible.

“Good.” Bucky tangled their legs together. “I can’t wait to show the whole world that you’re mine.”

“Oh, I’m yours now?” Steve teased, stroking Bucky’s arm.

“Well… I mean… If–” His sentence was cut short when Steve pressed their lips together.

“I’ve always been yours.”

Bucky kissed him again. And again. And again, until Steve was laughing at the short, sweet kisses.

“You know, I think that may have been the reason why I didn’t– why I stopped in DC. Something must have clicked.” He shrugged. “Maybe it was my brain telling me that you were too important to hurt.” Steve knew that it was still a heavy topic for Bucky and it hurt to talk about it, but he appreciated that he tried.

He kissed Bucky’s forehead. “You’re something else, Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky hummed, letting his hand trail down Steve’s chest and stopping just above his underwear. He let his fingers touch the soft skin, tracing it back and forth. Steve looked at him, cocking an eyebrow.

“What?” Bucky asked, trying to muster as much innocence as he could.

“Something you wanna do?” He felt a shiver running down his spine.

“Or someone,” Bucky whispered, just loud enough for Steve to hear. He cleared his throat. “Got some catching up to do with a certain someone. Do you think he’d be interested?”

Steve smirked, rolling on top of Bucky. “Oh, I think he’s _very_ interested.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky still had his bad days, but so did Steve. Most importantly, they helped each other through all of it, and understood whenever the other needed his time alone. Nothing changed much, apart from the sex which seemed to be a regular thing, not that either of them would ever complain.

Steve sometimes remembered how lost and empty he felt when he woke up from his deep sleep. And now the most important person in his life was by his side again, and it was like the world started to finally make sense. He often wondered if life had played a cruel joke on him, only to redeem itself later on. He wished that neither he nor Bucky had gone through everything that had happened in their lives, but at the same time he was simply glad that their paths had crossed once again, and he truly hoped that they would never part again.

“Hello, handsome.” He smiled when he felt Bucky pressing against his back, arms wrapping around his waist and a kiss being pressed to his neck. He tilted his head to kiss Bucky, smiling at him.

“You taste like coffee,” Bucky said. “Can I have some?”

Steve nodded towards the kitchen. “Right there.”

“You know, it just tastes so much better when my very hot boyfriend offers me a mug of warm coffee. Doesn’t taste the same when I do it.” He trailed his metal hand down Steve’s chest, knowing perfectly well the effect it had on Steve. “I’ll be sure to offer something in return.”

Steve laughed and tried to wiggle free from Bucky’s arms but the other man only tightened his grip. Steve turned around, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Bucky leaned forward and kissed him. No matter how many times it happened, Steve would never get tired of Bucky’s soft lips pressed against his, or the feel of his tongue against his own.

They pressed their foreheads together and smiled at each other.

“I love you,” Steve whispered.

“And I love _you_.” Bucky kissed Steve once again. “Coffee now?”

Steve threw his head back and laughed. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“So I’ve heard.” Bucky grinned, lightly slapping Steve’s ass as he turned way. “And so is that thing.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile.

His life was never perfect, and he knew it would never be. But he had the man he loved by his side, and they made each other feel happy above all else, no matter what life threw at them.

He couldn’t ask for much else.


End file.
